'Certainly not,' said Martinez. 'My driver will take you to the embassy on the way to the port, and the ambassador has promised there will be a passport for you at reception.'
'Thank you,' said Sebastian.
'Of course, it helps that the ambassador is a personal friend,' said Martinez with a smile. He then handed him a thick envelope and said, 'Be sure you hand this in to customs when you land at Southampton.'
'Is this the package I'm meant to take back to England?' asked Sebastian.
'No, no,' said Martinez, laughing. 'These are just the export documents to verify what's in the crate. All you have to do is present them to customs, and then Sotheby's will take over.'
Sebastian had never heard of Sotheby's, and made a mental note of the name.
'And Bruno rang last night to say he's looking forward to seeing you once you're back in London, and hopes you'll stay with him at Eaton Square. After all, it must be a better alternative than a guest house in Paddington.'
Sebastian thought about Tibby, and would have liked to tell Don Pedro that the Safe Haven guest house was the equal of the Majestic Hotel in Buenos Aires. 'Thank you, sir,' was all he said.
'Bon voyage, and just make sure that Sotheby's picks up my package. Once you get to London, let Karl know you've delivered it and remind him that I'll be back on the Monday.'
He stepped out from behind his desk, gripped Sebastian by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. 'I look upon you as my fourth son.'
Don Pedro's first son was standing by the window in his office on the floor below when Sebastian left the building carrying a thick envelope worth eight million pounds. He watched as Sebastian climbed into the back of the Rolls, but didn't move until he'd seen the driver ease away from the kerbside to join the morning traffic.
Diego ran up the stairs and joined his father.
'Is the statue safely on board?' Don Pedro asked once the door had been closed.
'I watched it being lowered into the hold earlier this morning. But I'm still not convinced.'
'About what?'
'There's eight million pounds of your money hidden in that statue, and not one of our team on board to keep an eye on it. You've left a boy, barely out of school, responsible for the entire operation.'
'Which is exactly why no one will take any interest in the statue, or him,' said Don Pedro. 'The paperwork is in the name of Sebastian Clifton, and all he has to do is present the manifest to customs, sign the release form, and then Sotheby's will take over, with no suggestion that we are in any way involved.'
'Let's hope you're right.'
'When we arrive at London Airport that Monday,' said Don Pedro, 'my bet is that there will be at least a dozen customs officers crawling all over our luggage. All they'll discover is the brand of aftershave I prefer, by which time the statue will be safely at Sotheby's awaiting the opening bid.'
When Sebastian walked into the embassy to pick up his passport, he was surprised to find Becky standing by the reception desk. 'Good morning,' she said. 'The ambassador is looking forward to meeting you,' and without another word, she turned and walked down the corridor towards Mr Matthews's office.
Sebastian followed her for a second time, wondering if his father was on the other side of that door and would be coming back to England with him. He hoped so. Becky gave a gentle tap, opened the door and stood to one side.
The ambassador was staring out of the window when Sebastian entered the room. The moment he heard the door open, he turned, marched across and shook Sebastian warmly by the hand.
'I'm glad to meet you at last,' he said. 'I wanted to give you this in person,' he added, picking up a passport from his desk.
'Thank you, sir,' said Sebastian.
'Can I also just check that you won't be taking more than a thousand pounds into Britain? Wouldn't want you to break the law.'
'I'm down to my last ten pounds,' Seb admitted.
'If that's all you've got to declare, you should sail through customs.'
'Except that I'm delivering a sculpture on behalf of Don Pedro Martinez that's to be collected by Sotheby's. I don't know anything about it, except that according to the manifest it's called The Thinker, and it weighs two tons.'
'Mustn't keep you,' said the ambassador as he accompanied him to the door. 'By the way, Sebastian, what's your middle name?'
'Arthur, sir,' he said as he stepped back into the corridor. 'I was named after my grandfather.'
'Have a pleasant voyage, my boy,' were Mr Matthews's last words before he closed the door. He returned to his desk and wrote three names on his pad.
40
'I RECEIVED THIS communique yesterday morning from Philip Matthews, our ambassador in Argentina,' said the cabinet secretary, handing out copies to everyone seated around the table. 'Please read it carefully.'
After Sir Alan had received the sixteen-page communique from Buenos Aires on his ticker tape machine, he'd spent the rest of the morning checking each paragraph carefully. He knew that what he was looking for would be secreted among the reams of trivia about what Princess Margaret had been up to on her official visit to the city.
He was puzzled about why the ambassador had invited Martinez to the royal garden party, and even more surprised to discover that he had been presented to Her Royal Highness. He assumed that Matthews must have had a good reason for flouting protocol in this way, and hoped there wasn't a photograph filed away in some newspaper cuttings library to remind everyone of the occasion at some time in the future.
It was just before midday when Sir Alan came across the paragraph he'd been searching for. He asked his secretary to cancel his lunch appointment.
Her Royal Highness was gracious enough to bring me up to date on the result of the first Test match at Lord's, wrote the ambassador. What a splendid effort by Captain Peter May, and such a pity that he was run out unnecessarily at the last minute.
Sir Alan looked up and smiled at Harry Clifton, who was also engrossed in the communique.
I was delighted to learn that Arthur Barrington will be returning for the second Test in Southampton on Sunday 23rd June, because with a test average of just over 8, it could make all the difference for England.
Sir Alan had underlined the words Arthur, Sunday, Southampton, and the number 8, before he continued reading.
However, I was puzzled when HRH told me that Tate would be a welcome edition at No. 5, but she assured me that no less a figure than John Rothenstein, the director of cricket, had told her, which had me thinking.
The cabinet secretary underlined Tate, No. 5, edition and Rothenstein, before he continued reading.
I shall be returning to London in Auguste, well in time to see the last Test at Millbank, so let us hope by then we've won the series of nine. And, by the way, that particular pitch will need a two-ton roller.
This time Sir Alan had underlined Auguste, Millbank, nine and two-ton. He was beginning to wish he'd taken a greater interest in cricket when he was at Shrewsbury, but then he'd been a wet bob, not a dry bob. However, as Sir Giles, who was sitting at the end of the table, had been awarded an Oxford cricket blue, he was confident that the intricacies of leather upon willow were about to be explained to him.